Nor let thy fury grow so hot,
Against poor feeble worms.

7 O! hear when dust and ashes speak,
And pity all our pain;

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O! save us, for thy mercy's sake,
And send us health again!

HYMN 110. C. M.

Thanksgiving for Victory.

O thee, who reign'st supreme above,
And reign'st supreme below,

Thou God of wisdom, pow'r, and love,
We our successes owe.

2 The thund'ring horse, the martial band
Without thine aid were vain ;
And vict'ry flies at thy command
To crown the bright campaign.

3 Thy mighty arm, unseen, was nigh,
When we our foes assail'd;

'Tis thou hast rais'd our honours high, And o'er their hosts prevail'd.

4 Their mounds, their camps, their lofty tow'rs Into our hands are giv’n;

Not from desert nor strength of ours,
But thro' the grace of heav'n.

5 The Lord of hosts, our helper lives;
His name be ever blest :

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'Tis his own arm the vict'ry gives; He grants his people rest.

HYMN 111. L. M.

Thanksgiving for national Peace.

GREAT Ruler of the earth and skies,
A word of thine almighty breath

Can sink the world, or bid it rise:
Thy smile is life, thy frown is death.

2 When angry nations rush to arms,
And rage, and noise, and tumult reign;
And war resounds its dire alarms,

And slaughter spreads the hostile plains; 3 Thy Sov'reign eye looks calmly down, And marks their course, and bounds their Thy word the angry nations own, [pow'r : And noise and war are heard no more.

4 Then peace returns with balmy wing,
Sweet peace! with her what blessings fled !
Glad plenty laughs, the vallies sing,
Reviving commerce lifts her head.

3 Thou good, and wise, and righteous Lord,
All move subservient to thy will;
And peace and war await thy word,
And thy sublime decrees fulfil.

6 To thee we pay our grateful songs,
Thy kind protection still implore;
O may our hearts, and lives, and tongues,
Confess thy goodness and adore!

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HYMN 112. C. M.

Thanksgiving for health after Pestilence.
OV'REIGN of life, we own thy hand
In this late chast'ning stroke ;
And, since we've smarted by thy rod,
Thy presence we invoke.

2 To thee in our distress we cried,
And thou hast bow'd thine ear;
The pestilence thou hast remov'd,
And brought deliv'rance near.
3 Unfold, ye gates of righteousness;
That, with the pious throng,
We may record our solemn vows,
And tune our grateful song.

i

4 Praise to the Lord, who staid the sword And said, "it is enough ;"

Praise to the Lord, who makes his saints
Triumphant e'en in death.

5 Our God, in thine appointed hour
Those heav'nly gates display,

Where pain, and sickness, fear and death
For ever flee away.

6 There, while the nations of the bless'd,
With raptures bow around,
Our anthems to deliv'ring grace,
In sweeter strains shall sound,

HYMN 113. C. M.

Complaint and hope in Sickness.

LORD, I am pain'd; but I resign
My body to thy will:

'Tis grace, 'tis wisdom all divine,
Appoints the pains I feel.

2 Dark are thy ways of providence,
While they, who love thee, groan :
Thy reasons lie conceal'd from sense,
Mysterious and unknown.

3 Yet nature may have leave to speak,
And plead before her God,

Lest the o'erburden'd heart should break
Beneath thy heavy rod.

4 These mournful groans and flowing tears, Give my poor spirit ease:

While ev'ry groan my Father hears,
And ev'ry tear he sees.

5 Is not some smiling hour at hand
With health upon its wings?
Give it, O God, thy swift command,
With all the joys it brings.

Praise for recovery from Sickness.

1 MY God, thy service well demands

The remnant of my days; Why was this fleeting breath renew'd, But to renew thy praise ?

2 Thine arms of everlasting love Did this weak frame sustain ; When life was hov'ring o'er the

grave,

And nature sunk with pain.
3 Calmly I bow'd my fainting head
On thy dear faithful breast;

Pleas'd to obey my Father's call
To his eternal rest.

4 Into thy hands, my Saviour-God,
Did I my soul resign:

In firm dependence on that truth,
Which made salvation mine.

5 Back from the borders of the grave,
At thy command I come :
Nor will I urge a speedier flight,
To my celestial home.

6 Where thou determin'st mine abode,
There would I choose to be;
For in thy presence death is life,
And earth is heav'n with thee.

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THX

HYMN 115. S. M.

Charity.

HY bounties, gracious Lord,
With gratitude we own:

We bless thy providential grace,
Which show'rs its blessings down.

2 With joy the people bring
Their off'rings round thy throne ;

With thankful souls behold we pay
A tribute of thy own.
3 Accept this humble mite
Great Sov'reign Lord of all ;
Nor let our num'rous mingling sins,
The fragrant ointment spoil.
4 Let a Redeemer's blood
Diffuse its virtues wide;
Hallow and cleanse our ev'ry gift,
And all our follies hide.

5 O may this sacrifice

To thee the Lord ascend,
An odour of a sweet perfume,
Presented by his hand.

6 Well pleas'd our God shall view
The products of his grace;
And in a plentiful reward
Fulfil his promises.

HYMN 116. L. M.

Charity.

1 THE gold and silver are the Lord's, And ev'ry blessing earth affords ; All come from his propitious hand, And must return at his command. 2 The blessings which I now enjoy, I must for Christ and souls employ ; For if I use them as my own, My Lord will soon call in his loan. 3 When I to him in want apply, He never does my suit deny; And shall I then refuse to give, Since I so much from him receive? 4 Shall Jesus leave the realms of day,

And clothe himself in humble clay?